


Children's Games, Adult Ideals

by angel_gidget



Category: Maximum Ride - James Patterson
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post-Split, Spoilers, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-13
Updated: 2011-05-13
Packaged: 2017-10-19 08:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_gidget/pseuds/angel_gidget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fang mourns, but not with the Flock.<br/>MAJOR SPOILERS for "Angel".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Children's Games, Adult Ideals

_**Fic [Maximum Ride]: Children's Games, Adult Ideals - Fang drabble**_  
 **Title:** Children's Games, Adult Ideals  
 **Fandom:** Maximum Ride  
 **Rating:** PG ('cause Fang = Angst)  
 **Word Count:** 505  
 **Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
 **Summary:** MAJOR SPOILERS for "Angel", Fang mourns, but not with the Flock.

He grieves for Angel. Of course he does. He just... he knows that he and Max are grieving for different things now. He wants to hunt down the Doomsday Group and do more damage (and maybe scream and rage in the process once this damn numbness goes away) but Max... Max isn't just crying for a friend.

 _My baby..._

She doesn't say it out loud, but he can see her lips forming the words.

Fang has never thought of Max as a mother. But he's always known that if he stopped and _thought_ about it, he'd see it was a part of how she saw herself. And now she's wrung and hollowed out, having lost the child that she raised. That _they_ raised. The thought twists the knife deeper.

Did Angel ever think of him that way? With her big blue eyes and machete-sharp little mind, did she ever play those simple games of house the way Max did, thinking of Max as the Mommy and of Fang as...

He didn't think so, but now that the possibility is crossing his mind, he doesn't _want_ to know. Why is his brain trying so hard to make thing worse?

His memory blurs into random recollections as he watches his old family from a distance... as Iggy squeezes Nudge's hand. As Max holds Gazzy. And even as Dylan holds Max. It doesn't help that the air still smells like C4. He knows it's twisted, but he associates that smell with _Christmas_ , and it just feels like it doesn't belong with this kind of devastation, though he knows that it is nothing if not appropriate.

Fang has never felt more like a guy on the outside looking in.

He can turn around right now and go back to his Gang. In some ways, he should. He needs to be there for them, especially since they've never seen battle like this before. And if he should go to anyone for comfort right now, it should be Maya. It would let her know that he _gets_ that she has his back... and she's a little better at the emotions thing than Max. Another of those dozens of subtle differences that he's picking up on every day.

But it _hurts_. And when it hurts like this, he's used to knowing that it's hurting the Flock worse. He's used to putting on that enigmatic blank face and helping his family. Being the strong one. Being needed.

Not having this invisible 50-foot thick wall between him and them.

He eventually gives Max the awkwardest of hugs. He feels her pulling him close, but it changes nothing. The wall is still there. When he finally looks away and walks towards his new friends, he's grateful for the space they give him and the things they do and don't say.

In their own way, they offer condolences for his bad breakup and the disappearance of his friend.

They're kind enough not to call it what it is.

A divorce and the death of a child.

 _f.i.n._   



End file.
